


Red, The Color of Desire

by A_New_World_To_Be_Won



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Artist Grantaire, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Eventual Enjolras/Grantaire, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grantaire & Éponine Thénardier Friendship, M/M, Minor Combeferre/Courfeyrac, Minor Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Pining Enjolras, Starbucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-06 18:38:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14063013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_New_World_To_Be_Won/pseuds/A_New_World_To_Be_Won
Summary: Starbucks AU! Enjolras goes to Starbucks (shocking, I know) and meets Grantaire, an artist who works there. Fluff ensues





	1. Chapter 1

Enjolras looks at the door of Starbucks. It’s cold, and getting late, and he really doesn’t want to walk another six blocks to Cafe Musain to get his coffee, which he needs because tonight is just one of those nights where he needs to stay up until 1 AM writing papers that aren’t due for another three weeks. Besides, nobody is even inside, which is unusual, but not really, since it’s 10 PM on a Monday night. Of course Enjolras doesn’t want to promote Starbucks, it’s capitalist and cruel, and they always spell his name wrong anyway, but his options are fairly limited at this point. And what would Joly say if he finds out that Enjolras walked an extra six blocks in freezing cold weather when he had already been outside for four hours at a protest?  
Enjolras gives up, partly because he is freezing, and partly because the lack of caffeine is getting to him. He loves caffeine like a blind man loves the light, and so he uses all of his resolve to push open the door, and is greeted with a pleasant coffee smell and soft music playing. He didn’t know Starbucks could be this appealing. He doesn’t remember the last time he has been in a Starbucks, probably at least three years ago. Enjolras sighs, and hunts in his pockets for his credit card because Starbucks is expensive and he doesn’t feel like finding the correct amount of cash. He grips his credit card tightly, and glances at the menu board overhead, currently advertising something called a blonde espresso. He walks to the counter and the barista turns around and Enjolras’ jaw drops because the barista is absolutely gorgeous with curly black hair and warm brown eyes and gorgeous pink lips that are open, revealing straight, white teeth. The barista grins when he sees him for some reason, but Enjolras ignores it. He clears his throat and tries to look bored, like he doesn’t want to be there, but the barista’s grin only widens.  
“Can I help you?” he says, and his voice is deep and slightly hoarse and Enjolras swallows before ordering a black coffee. He pays, and the barista nods, and turns around to begin making it.  
“Um- don’t you need my name?” Enjolras asks, and the barista laughs.  
“You’re the only one here, so no, not really.” Enjolras looks around to affirm that this is true, nods, and sits down at a nearby table. He opens his laptop and begins to work on a dissertation that isn’t due for another month, getting so absorbed that he doesn’t notice when the barista softly calls “Apollo.” Only when the barista practically shouts it does Enjolras look up.  
“Sorry- what was that?”  
“Apollo, your order’s ready.”  
“My name isn’t Apollo,” Enjolras says, confused, as he walks up to the counter to accept the coffee.  
“Could’ve fooled me,” responds the barista, whose name tag reads “Grantaire.” Enjolras goes back to his table and tries to continue working. But after a while, he finds that he can’t. The barista keeps looking up at him and then back down, and Enjolras cannot for the life of him figure out what he is doing. He peeks over the top of his computer and sees that the barista- Grantaire- has a sketchbook spread out on the counter in front of him. Enjolras marches up the counter angrily.  
“You need my permission,” he states, matter-of-factly. Grantaire looks up, confused. He is holding a charcoal pencil, and has assorted colored pencils piled in front of him.  
“Sorry?”  
“My permission,” Enjolras repeats, louder. “To draw me.” He reaches for the book, but Grantaire snatches it away.  
“You can’t see it until it’s done, I’m afraid. Just a rule that I have. My eyes only until I’m ready for others to see it.” He gives Enjolras a smirk. Enjolras huffs, and walks to his table to gather up his stuff. The store closes in fifteen minutes anyway. He can’t believe he has been here for almost forty-five minutes, watching Grantaire draw him. As he leaves, he mutters angry things under his breath about permission and consent. Just as he opens the door, Grantaire calls out to him.  
“Hey, Apollo, if you come back tomorrow, same time, I can finish it for you. Then you can decide what I do with it.” Enjolras ignores him, and heads out towards his apartment. As he walks, he thinks about Grantaire. His smile, his hair- no. Enjolras shakes his head firmly. No. He doesn’t let feelings control him, and there is a reason. Thoughts are so much more logical, and they can see things that feelings can’t, analyze flaws that feelings don’t register. Enjolras has only let his feelings get the better of him once.  
In retrospect, he doesn’t know why he had decided to do it. He only had to stay at home for another month before going off to college, and he knew the reaction he was going to get. But he had had a feeling, he felt that his parents should know, that they would change their minds. So he took a deep breath, ignored all of the warning signals that his mind gave to him, and told his parents he was gay. A month later, he was at college with a fully paid tuition for four years, a couple thousand extra in his already-large bank account, and no invitation to ever return to his parents house unless he could fix what was wrong with him. He knew that his parents were homophobic bigots, but the rejection still hurt, because they were his parents and he loved them. He wished that they had accepted him, and sometimes he wished that he could drive to their house and have his mom comfort him when he was feeling stressed or have his dad give him advice, but he always squashed these feelings down and continued working with twice as much fervor.  
He realizes he is crushing his coffee cup with one hand, and stops to recycle it. Of course Starbucks doesn’t offer ceramic mugs that you can hand back when you’re done, because what do they care about the environment, only money, money, money.  
Finally, he reaches the apartment that he shares with Combeferre and unlocks the door. As usual, Courfeyrac is there too, and he and Ferre are sprawled out on the couch watching Netflix, Courf in a bright green onesie, Ferre in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt with the periodic table on it. Enjolras doesn’t know how the two idiots haven’t made out yet, despite their obvious attraction to one another. Ferre is so smart, but sometimes he can be kind of stupid.  
“Enjy!” Courf squeals, and jumps up to hug Enjolras. “Where were you? You haven’t answered your phone. It’s SUPER important” Enjolras checks his phone, and sure enough, three missed calls and two texts, all from Courfeyrac.  
“What is it?” Enjolras asks with a sigh. He has been best friends with Courfeyrac long enough to know that it probably is not important at all, but he still tries to help Courf with whatever he can.  
“Well,” Courfeyrac starts, “Um… so I have this friend, and, well, you know how you aren’t dating? Um so he was scrolling through the pictures on my phone and thought you were hot and he asked if you were single so I said yes! And then I said that you would probably agree to go on a date with him, and so the date is on Friday at the Musain!” Courf grins, and Enjolras resists the urge to throw something at him. Courf reaches into his onesie pocket, and sprinkles pink glitter over Enjolras’ blond curls. “Ta-da! Blessed by the god of love, the perfect matchmaker- me, myself, and I.” Enjolras rolls his eyes, and allows a snort to escape.  
“So you’ll do it?” asks Courfeyrac excitedly. Enjolras rolls his eyes again and nods. Courf jumps up and down, and hugs Combeferre, who has walked over to join the conversation.  
“Thank god you agreed,” Ferre says. “He hasn’t shut up about it for the past hour. If you had said no he would have been crushed.” He looks at Courf adoringly, who is now pulling out the necessary ingredients to make a cake, “to celebrate Enjolras’ initiation into the world of love and romance.”  
“Courf, I’m not eating cake at 11 at night, but you’re welcome to make some for Ferre. Stay as long as you like. Leave leftovers, I don’t want to make breakfast tomorrow.” Enjolras goes to his room and pulls on a pair of red boxers and a gray t-shirt with a picture of the French flag on it, and walks to the bathroom, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor. As he’s walking down the hallway, he hears Courfeyrac and Combeferre talking to each other as Courfeyrac whisks the ingredients together.  
“Ferre, he totally met someone. He was blushing so much when he came in! The blind date might not even be necessary after all… ”  
“Courf, it’s like twenty degrees outside. His face was probably red because of the cold, not because he was blushing. Have you seen Enjolras blush, ever? Don’t call off the date.”  
“Ugh, fine, if you insist… I think he met someone though. Bet ten bucks he did, but isn’t saying anything. We’ll find out soon though.” Enjolras can practically hear Combeferre roll his eyes, but he agrees to the bet, and Enjolras finally goes into the bathroom and pulls the door shut. As he brushes his teeth, he thinks about Grantaire. Does he feel attracted to him? Every bone in his body screams for him to say no, but he honestly has no idea. All the same, he decides, he should go back to Starbucks tomorrow, just so he can see the picture that Grantaire is drawing of him. He finally goes back to his room, and falls asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

When Enjolras wakes up, he smells coffee, and so he walks into the kitchen in a tired haze. Combeferre is standing at the coffeemaker, glaring at it, as if willing it to make the coffee faster.   
“Courf didn’t stay the night?” Enjolras asks. Combeferre shook his head.  
“He has a test today, he needed to get some sleep. Whenever he stays the night, he and I stay up until like three…Oh god Enjolras, I really like him, what the hell do I do?” It’s too early for this and Enjolras needs coffee first, so he just mutters “Coffee first,” and grabs a mug. After he drinks about half of it, he feels better, and he sets it down on the counter.   
“Ferre, you need to tell him. Worst case scenario, he says he doesn’t feel the same.” Enjolras knows that this scenario will not happen, because Courf rants to him about his ‘unrequited’ feelings for Ferre at least three times a day, but he would never spill their secrets. Ferre shakes his head.   
“No, no, no. He obviously doesn’t feel the same, I just… Friendship is enough.” Ferre sighs, and seems lost in thought, so Enjolras shrugs, and puts his mug in the sink. He goes into his room and flops onto his bed, opening up his laptop.  
He works on his essays until he realizes that it’s almost nine at night, and Grantaire told him to come back at the same time tomorrow. He walks into the bathroom and sees Combeferre, frantically washing his face and brushing his teeth. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and khakis, with a belt, and something special must be happening, because Ferre never dresses this nice.   
“Meeting Courf?” Enjolras asks.   
“Enj, he said he wanted to tell me something. Oh god, I’m totally overreacting.” he takes a breath. “It’s probably something dumb and totally something that only Courf will think is important, and holy crap he’s so adorable when he wants to tell you about important stuff, or anything really. Yeah, it’s probably something dumb, but doesn’t hurt to look nice right?”  
Enjolras has to laugh. “Ferre, you look great. And though I don’t agree about the whole adorable thing, I’m pretty sure he likes you… it’s kind of obvious. He isn’t subtle at all.” Ferre flashes him a grateful look, and races out of the room, shouting a goodbye as he pulls on a jacket and slams the apartment door, leaving Enjolras alone in the apartment.  
Enjolras finishes in the bathroom, and changes into a white v-neck with dark jeans and a red jacket. Very patriotic, he thinks as he grabs his phone and laptop before walking out the door. It’s almost ten, and he walks slow, not wanting to be precisely on time, but not wanting to be too late. He gets to the coffee shop at 9:40, and he takes a deep breath before heading inside.  
Today, there is one other person in the shop, a girl behind the counter. Her name tag reads Eponine. He wonders briefly where Grantaire is, but then hears a voice singing in the back room.

If Heaven and Hell decide  
That they both are satisfied  
Illuminate the “no’s” on their vacancy signs  
If there’s no one beside you  
When your soul embarks  
I will follow you into the dark

The song is beautiful and haunting and Grantaire sings it so well. Enjolras doesn’t know how he knows that it’s Grantaire singing it, he’s only heard his voice once, but somehow he knows. He sits down at a table and opens his laptop to wait for Grantaire, but Eponine clears her throat.  
“Sorry, but are you planning on buying anything, or are you just here for the free wi-fi?” Enjolras looks up, and sees her looking at him, annoyed.   
“Actually, I’m meeting someone,” he replies coolly. “If you don’t mind me disrupting from the overflow of customers you have at the moment.” Eponine opens her mouth to reply, and then closes it, looking around at the empty shop.   
“Wait, are you Apollo?” she asks, grinning. “R told me something about you coming here yesterday… I think I’ve seen you before. Oh wait, you’re one of those anti-Starbucks people aren’t you? Capitalism and all? Aren’t you the head of some group, Friends of the Alphabet or whatever?”  
“Friends of the ABC, and yes, I believe that Starbucks is capitalist. I don’t know who R is, but if they know that I was here yesterday then I will assume you mean Grantaire.” Enjolras suddenly gets it, and smirks slightly. “Oh wait… I think I get it. I’m a French major… Grantaire, grand R, so just plain R right?” Eponine laughs.  
“Yup! I didn’t think anyone would ever figure it out if he didn’t tell them, but I guess I was proved wrong. You’re the model right? He told me about you, but wouldn’t show me the art.”  
“He wouldn’t show me either if it makes you feel better. So where is he anyway? I have a life, you know.” Eponine points to the back room.   
“He’ll be out soon, he’s doing inventory.” Enjolras drums his fingers on the table anxiously, then stops. He doesn’t like to betray emotion like this, it makes him feel out of control. Just then, the back door swings open and Grantaire enters. He’s wearing a beanie today, and his curls are peeking out from the front of it. He sees Enjolras and grins.   
“Hey Apollo.”  
“My name is Enjolras.” Grantaire grins wider. Enjolras can tell that he loves getting under his skin, and he grits his teeth. Grantaire continues as though he hadn’t heard Enjolras.   
“Didn’t think you were going to come, to be honest. I’m glad you did though.” He pulls out his sketchbook from below the counter and resumes his drawing, glancing up at Enjolras every so often. Enjolras tries to act normal, but now that he knows that he is being drawn, it’s difficult to stay still. Finally, Grantaire puts down his pencil with a satisfied sigh.   
“Can I see?” Enjolras blurts out, and immediately regrets it. He doesn’t want to sound like a child, but Grantaire only nods.  
Enjolras walks to the counter and takes a look. He is awestruck; nobody has drawn him before, and he didn’t even know he looked this… radiant. Grantaire drew him as though he is emanating light from his very being, as if everyone he looks at or interacts with is blessed by a ray of purest sunlight. He manages to make Enjolras look… regal almost, with one blond curl flopping into his eye as he stares angrily at his computer. It looks just like him, but also so different. The rest of the room is drawn in shadow, as if it pales in comparison to Enjolras’ radiance. The letter R is signed in the bottom right corner.   
Enjolras cannot formulate words, he senses that Grantaire is probably waiting for a reaction, but he can’t bring himself to look away, not even for a moment.   
“Can I- can I have it?” he asks hesitantly. Grantaire smiles, and it isn’t laced with sarcasm or annoyance, just pure happiness, and he tears out the page and hands it to Enjolras.   
Enjolras can’t stop staring at it, it seems as if the picture itself is glowing, faint, but there.   
“I could- I could draw another for you, if you want. If that’s okay,” he adds quickly, and he sounds… unsure? It’s so unusual that Enjolras looks up, shocked at the change in tone. Even though he has only known Grantaire for a day, he can’t imagine him in anything other than a snarky, sarcastic mood.   
Realizing that Grantaire is waiting for an answer, Enjolras quickly nods, and then grabs his phone from his pocket.   
“I run an activist group if you want to come to a meeting, put in your number and I’ll text you the address and date of the next one. You can draw me then, if you want.” Grantaire looks slightly taken aback, but he programs his number into Enjolras’ phone before handing it back to him.   
“Right,” Enjolras says, hesitantly. “I should probably go.” He waves to Eponine, who is on her phone in the back room, and nods to Grantaire before grabbing his laptop and walking out into the cool, crisp night air.   
When he gets back to his apartment, Ferre is baking cookies. The overwhelming smell of chocolaty goodness washes over Enjolras, and he breathes in deeply. He sets his laptop on the coffee table, and walks into the kitchen.   
“What happened with Courf?” he asks Combeferre, and Ferre sighs.   
“It was just something dumb, I shouldn’t have read so much into it. He’s worried that Jehan is mad at him, since he hasn’t been around so much… Oh God Enj, he likes Jehan, of course it’s Jehan, they live together. He would never like me.” Combeferre sighs heavily and looks into the mixing bowl as though it might tell him the secret to happiness if only he looks hard enough.   
Enjolras hums in sympathy, and puts his hand on Ferre’s shoulder.   
“It’ll work out Ferre, don’t worry. You don’t even know for sure if he likes Jehan anyway. You live with me, and you aren’t attracted to me. Don’t make assumptions, focus on the facts. You of all people should know that.” Combeferre nods, and smiles slightly at Enjolras.   
“I think I’m going to scrap the cookies, I’m just super tired. I’ll freeze the dough and save it for next time. Night Enj.” Ferre wraps plastic wrap over the rim of the bowl and places it into the fridge before walking into his room and shutting the door behind him. Enjolras decides to go to bed as well, and walks into his room. He’s about to fall asleep, but then remembers to text Grantaire. 

Enjolras: Hi, this is Enjolras. Our next meeting is tomorrow at 10 AM at Cafe Musain. Come if you can.  
Grantaire responds quickly, like he was waiting for it.  
R: Sounds good! I might be a little late, just bc I’m late to everything lol. C u then Apollo.   
Enjolras: Why do you call me that?  
R: That’s for me to know and u 2 find out. Goodnight Apollo. See ya tmrw.   
Enjolras: See you.

Enjolras falls asleep with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave comments!


	3. Chapter 3

Enjolras wakes up at 7 AM, much earlier than typical for him, but it’s only because he needs to get to the Musain at least half an hour before the meeting started, and his morning routine takes about two hours.   
He showers, makes some pancakes for himself, and eats them as he edits his presentation for the meeting today. For some unknown reason, he wants to impress Grantaire, and presentations are the best way he knows how to do that.   
He also spends a lot of time on his hair and outfit today. He selects his favorite red jacket with a pair of black jeans and a gray t-shirt. He pins his Friends of the ABC pin to his jacket. The pin had been designed to look like a cockade rosette from the June Rebellion of 1832. Curling black script wrote out the name of the group in the center. As an afterthought, he puts an extra one in his pocket to give to Grantaire.  
After he had brushed his teeth and fixed his hair, he quickly left the apartment, leaving a note for Ferre. Ferre would most likely know where he was, but there was always a chance he would forget that Enjolras always left early on meeting days.   
Enjolras entered the Musain at exactly 9:30, and ordered his usual black coffee, to be served in a ceramic mug. To his surprise, when he turned around, Grantaire was standing behind him, grinning.   
It was strange seeing him outside of Starbucks. He was wearing dark blue jeans with a rip in one knee, and a dark green hoodie. He was holding a sketchbook, and Enjolras found his eyes drawn to his hands. They were stained with paint, and Enjolras couldn’t tear his eyes away.   
“Hey Apollo.” The soft sound of Grantaire’s voice made Enjolras’ head snap up.   
“Hello Grantaire,” Enjolras replied, then instantly regretted it. Did he sound too formal? Too uptight? Why did he care so much? He walked Grantaire over to their usual area, a bunch of tables that they would push together in the back of the room.   
“Why are you so early?” Enjolras asked.  
“Didn’t want to risk being late, so I left at nine.” Enjolras nodded. It’s 9:45 now, and the awkwardness is tangible.   
“So, what exactly does this group do?” Grantaire tries to break the silence, but he’s smiling, and oh god, he’s actually enjoying Enjolras’ discomfort. Enjolras coughs before answering.  
“Well, it's basically an activist group. Right now, we’re focusing our efforts on sexism, in support of the “Me Too” movement, but usually we spread ourselves out into fighting a wide spectrum of bigotry.” Grantaire nods.   
“Hey, I invited Eponine along. I hope that’s okay.” It takes a moment before Enjolras remembers who Eponine is.   
“Right, yeah, that’s fine. More members would be good anyway. Um-” he hesitates before asking, it sounds too personal, too invasive, but he needs to know. “Are you and Eponine in a relationship?” Grantaire snorts.  
“Hell no. I’m gay as they come, and even though she is quite possibly the straightest person I’ve ever met, she would never be interested in me.” Just then, Eponine walks in. She looks different without her Starbucks uniform too. Her dark hair is loose around her face, and she’s wearing a tight gray tank top with a pair of army green capris. She goes over to the counter to place her order, and drums her fingers on the counter as she waits, scrutinizing the place as she does so.  
Grantaire looks like he wants to ask Enjolras something, so Enjolras gives him an inquisitive look.  
“What’s up? You look like you have a question.”  
“Yeah, so this is going to sound super awkward no matter how I phrase it, but, um, are you… you know… gay?” Enjolras is taken aback by the straightforwardness. It’s new to him after years of dealing with people who wrap their words in fluff. He has nothing against that, but he’s the only person he knows who gets to the point quickly. Until now, that is.  
“Um, yeah, I’m gay. I guess. I’ve never been in a serious relationship before, but I’ve only ever been attracted to guys, so I guess I’m gay.” Grantaire nods, and Eponine walks over holding two cups of coffee. She hands one to Grantaire and smiles at Enjolras, taking a long sip.   
“So, when is everyone else going to get here?” she asks. Enjolras checks his phone. 9:56.   
“Soon,” he responds. “In fact, they’re usually early. Or some of them anyway.” Right on cue, the door to the Musain opens and Courfeyrac and Combeferre step through, chattering excitedly. Well, the chattering is mostly Courfeyrac, but Combeferre looks interested in what Courf has to say. They walk over to Enjolras, and Ferre looks at the newcomers with a questioning expression on his face. Enjolras clears his throat.  
“Eponine, Grantaire, this is Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Ferre, Courf, this is Eponine and Grantaire.” Courf smiles brightly, and Ferre gives a polite nod. Grantaire raises one eyebrow.  
“Are you two dating?” he asks bluntly. Courfeyrac’s face turns bright red and Combeferre suddenly spots something very interesting on the ceiling. A smirk plays across Grantaire’s lips.   
“Not yet, then. Got it.” Ferre looks like he’s about to respond, then looks at Courf, who’s looking at him, blushes, and looks at the ground instead. Eponine giggles. Just then, the door opens again, and a stream of people enter. Courf and Ferre quickly excuse themselves and sit down, pointedly looking anywhere but at each other. Once they are all seated around the table, Enjolras leads Eponine and Grantaire to the head of the table and introduces them.  
“Everyone, this is Eponine and Grantaire. Eponine and Grantaire, this is Joly, Jehan, Bossuet, Bahorel, Feuilly, Marius and Cosette, and you already know Combeferre and Courfeyrac.” Eponine, who hasn’t been able to take her eyes off Marius since he walked in, bristles slightly at the “and” that Marius and Cosette’s introduction gets, but smiles brightly all the same. Grantaire waves at everyone.   
Enjolras nudges them to the table, indicating that they should sit down, and they do. Grantaire sits at the very front, sketchbook at the ready, while Eponine takes a seat next to Marius. Cosette doesn’t look too pleased with that development.   
Enjolras launches into his presentation, letting the ease that comes to him when he talks in front of crowds overwhelm his body, flow through his blood. Eponine stops listening after a couple of minutes, and begins to talk to Marius, but Grantaire is listening, rapt with attention, glancing at his paper every so often, but mostly gazing at Enjolras, almost reverential. Enjolras segways into his next segment about sexism in the workplace, and Grantaire leans his chair back on its back legs.   
“Just to play devil’s advocate, if the wage gap exists, why don’t companies only hire women? It would cost a lot less, wouldn’t it?” Enjolras blinks. His hands curl into fists, and he takes a deep breath. He cannot stand it when people tell him he’s wrong when he knows that he isn’t, and the other members know that, which is why the room has suddenly fallen silent. Grantaire is still smiling, and he knows what he just did, and he doesn’t even care. Enjolras prepares to answer.  
“Well Grantaire, that is certainly a point that many ignorant people would make. The fact is, the 80.5% annual wage ratio figure is often discounted as a lie. It reflects a lot of things though, and because the gender wage gap is multi faceted, it doesn’t make it a lie. For instance, there is no proof that being a mother decreases your productivity, and cases like that have been taken to court. However, if women are mothers, their advancement opportunities shrink, while father’s advancement opportunities only grow.” Once he’s started, it’s difficult for him to stop, and he talks for a good five minutes.   
Once he’s done, Grantaire nods, and fixes some lines on his paper. Enjolras had forgotten that Grantaire was only here to draw him, not to join the group, and the thought makes him sad, though he doesn’t know why. But the time is already 11:30, and the meeting should have been over fifteen minutes ago, so he quickly says a final few words, and then everyone packs up, chattering as they exit.   
The final people left are Enjolras, Grantaire, Eponine, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre. Enjolras walks over to Grantaire.  
“How did you like the meeting?” he asks hesitantly.  
“It was great!” Grantaire says enthusiastically. “I got a couple of super good sketches of you- I’ll finish them tonight. The subject matter was good too, you have good arguments. You need to learn to defend them better though.” He blushes, as if embarrassed to be so excited about something. “Sorry- I know I’m not a member or anything, so my critique might not be welcome, but that’s just what I took away.”  
“Thank you for the critique, seriously. It helps. And about you not being a member-” Enjolras pulls the extra button from his pocket. “Do you want to be one? You can say no,” he adds quickly. “But meetings are only once a week and after them we go to Courf’s sometimes, and we have parties and rallies too.” Grantaire takes the button from Enjolras’ hand, and smiles, the same smile he gave when Enjolras asked if he could have the first picture Grantaire drew of him.   
“I would love to join,” he says softly, and Enjolras grins like an idiot.  
Just then, Eponine abandons her talk with Courfeyrac, and tugs on Grantaire’s sleeve.   
“R, we need to go,” she whines. “Sorry Enjolras,” she adds. “He promised he would go with me to this movie, just because I don’t want to go alone. The single life is annoying.” Grantaire rolls his eyes, but waves to Enjolras and allows himself to be pulled out the door.  
“So,” Courfeyrac says, walking up to Enjolras. “So, so, so. That was very interesting. Has our fearless leader got himself a little romance?” He asks, grinning. Enjolras blushes, and then wishes he hadn't. Courf looks ecstatic.  
“I told you Ferre! I told you, didn’t I? Oh my gosh, Enjolras is going to date Grantaire and maybe they’ll get married and -Enj, can I be your best man? I look so good in a tux! Oh my gosh, this is really happening!” Enjolras looks to Combeferre for some sort of help, but Ferre only shrugs.   
“Enj, it did look like you liked him, as more than a friend… sorry.” Enjolras is angry, and he doesn’t know why. Maybe because he knows he doesn’t like Grantaire, not in that way anyway, because feelings are useless. Maybe it’s because he can’t take it watching these two idiots try to set him up when obviously they need to get together themselves. But the next words that fly out of his mouth had no thought behind them at all.   
“Well, you know what Ferre? It looks like you like Courf as more than a friend too. Actually, it doesn’t just look like it,” he adds as Ferre looks at him, horror-struck. “How often do you obsess over him? Every minute?” Ferre looks like he wants to sink into the ground, and keeps sneaking glances at Courf, who is blushing furiously. Enjolras looks around, satisfied, leaves the cafe, and doesn’t look back.


	4. Chapter 4

When Enjolras gets home, he locks himself in his room and just thinks. He feels bad for betraying Ferre, but he knows that by the time they get home, the two of them will be a couple. He puts his head in his hands, and thinks about Grantaire. His curls, his lopsided smirk, his beautiful art.  
Why can’t everything be as easy as debating? Enjolras thinks. When he debates, there are outlines, points that must be made, explanations of the points, and you know your argument is good if you convince the person that they’re wrong. Arguing comes so naturally to him, why can’t feelings come the same way?  
He hears the apartment door open, and then close, and then there is a tentative knock on his door. Enjolras gets up and opens it. Courf and Ferre are standing there, looking supremely uncomfortable at the situation they are now in, but Enjolras notices that they are holding hands, and a small bit of pride bubbles up inside of him.  
“I’m super sorry for being so pushy,” Courf says, looking like he might cry. “I know you aren’t totally familiar with the whole ‘feelings’ thing, and if you don’t like Grantaire that’s fine, and if you do like him, that’s fine too. Well, it’s more than fine actually, it’s great, but don’t feel pressured.” Ferre nods.  
“We’re sorry, Enjolras.” Enjolras nods. He hates admitting he’s wrong, but he has to.  
“I’m sorry for lashing out,” he manages. “But it looks like it worked,” he says, glancing meaningfully at their entwined hands. They blush, and Courf smiles.  
“I can’t believe all my hints went unnoticed for so long, my gosh Ferre, how oblivious can you be?”  
“Me?” Ferre exclaims. “You’re the one who didn’t notice that I was always blushing when I was around you, or when anyone said your name, or when I saw anything that reminded me remotely of you…” he trails off. Courf smirks at him. Enjolras smiles, but there is something else he needs to say.  
“You guys were right. I think I do like Grantaire, and I’m almost certain he doesn’t feel the same way, but-”  
“No, no, NO!” Courfeyrac interrupts. “Enj, Grantaire adores you, it’s so obvious, and oh my gosh, I need to cancel the blind date I set you up on because this is the real thing!” Enjolras looks at him hopefully.  
“You think so?” he asks quietly, and Courf looks at him seriously.  
“Enj, I know so.”  
Later that night, Enjolras texts Grantaire.

Enjolras: Can I come by Starbucks tomorrow to see the pictures?  
R: I have the early shift tmrw, it’s going to be busy. Can we meet @ the Musain? What time does it open?  
Enjolras: It’s 24-hour.  
R: Perfect. Wanna meet up now?  
Enjolras: Okay, if that works for you.  
R: Wouldn’t suggest it if it didn’t. See ya

Enjolras takes a deep breath before quietly leaving the house. Ferre is out with Courf, so he doesn’t bother leaving a note.  
The night air clears his mind, and it feels good. The time is almost midnight, but Enjolras feels wide awake. He finally understands Marius’ non-stop rambling. Being attracted to someone feels like his mind is short-circuiting, but in the best way. When he reaches the Musain, he can’t bring himself to open the door.  
Somehow he manages, and the warm air feels like it’s suffocating him. Grantaire is sitting at a table in the corner, his sketchbook open in front of him next to a ceramic mug full of coffee. He’s looking at the pictures, adding a line here and there. Enjolras admires him for a moment, before ordering his coffee, and when it’s done, he sits down across from Grantaire.  
“Hey,” he says. Grantaire looks up in surprise, before smiling.  
“Hey yourself,” he responds. “I finished the pictures. One is in black and white, the other is in color… I didn’t know which style you would like better.” He sounds… nervous? Enjolras can’t imagine why. The man has more confidence than anyone he has ever met.  
“I don’t have a preference. Can I see?” Grantaire pushes the sketchbook over, and Enjolras actually gasps.  
The first picture is in color, and Enjolras looks enraged in this one, and you can actually see the fire in his eyes. He looks almost god-like, and every color is so vivid and so perfect. Everyone else looks pale and ghost-like in contrast, just faint hints of color compared to Enjolras, who is so vibrant and alive.  
The second picture is in black and white, and Enjolras is laughing. The background is different, he’s sitting instead of standing, so Enjolras knows that he’s probably talking to Courfeyrac before or after the meeting. Courf is usually the only one who makes him laugh, except for Grantaire. Even though it’s in black and white, the picture glows with vibrancy. Every line is perfect, every detail there, yet it doesn’t look too meticulous.  
Enjolras looks up. Grantaire is drumming his fingers on the table nervously. Enjolras beams, and Grantaire smiles hesitantly.  
“You like them?”  
“Holy crap Grantaire, these are amazing! You’re so good at this.” Grantaire gives a cocky smile.  
“I know,” he responds, and Enjolras laughs. Then he remembers what he wanted to tell Grantaire, and stops. Grantaire notices the abrupt change in mood, and raises an eyebrow.  
“Are you alright, Enj?” he asks, and Enjolras blushes slightly, because normally he hates that nickname, but when Grantaire uses it, it becomes his favorite thing.  
“Um, yeah I guess. Actually, lately I’ve been better than ever. And that kind of brings me to what I wanted to say. I know I’ve only known you for a few days, and that’s really not that long, but I don’t think I would feel the same if you weren’t in my life, and I’m kind of attracted to you in a romantic way, and it’s fine if you don’t feel the same way, it’s fine if you just want to be friends, but I really want something more, and basically that’s how I’ve been feeling.” Grantaire’s eyebrows go up. Way up. He clears his throat, and he’s blushing now.  
“Yeah, um, I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” he says, and Enjolras’ heart sinks, but he gives a strained smile, and nods. Why had he been so stupid, of course Grantaire didn't feel the same way, he's perfect and artistic and Enjolras is, well, Enjolras, and he can't do anything except argue. He moves to stand up, but Grantaire stops him.  
“No- not like that,” Grantaire says quickly. “It’s just- ugh why am I so bad at this- I like you too. Since you walked into Starbucks, actually. And I would like something more, so Enjolras, do you want to go out with me?”  
Enjolras realizes he had been holding his breath. He lets it out, and smiles, sinking back down into his chair.  
“I believe I would like that a lot, actually,” he says. Grantaire grins.  
“Then it’s a date.”  
They walk out of the door together, Enjolras clutching his drawings protectively with one hand, the other hand gripping Grantaire’s. They aren't talking, but they're staring at each other, and Enjolras doesn't remember the last time he's felt so... whole.  
When they get to the corner, Grantaire glances to his right, and Enjolras realizes that he and Grantaire need to go separate ways.  
“Well,” Grantaire says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I guess I’ll see you tomorr-”  
He’s cut off when Enjolras kisses him, and it takes a moment for Grantaire to kiss back but when he starts it’s perfect and it feels like nothing can ever be wrong again in the world and now Grantaire is sliding his hand into Enjolras’ hair and it’s perfect and what on earth did Enjolras do to deserve this smart, funny, beautiful man. They break apart, and Grantaire smirks.  
“Very enthusiastic, aren’t we Apollo,”he says.  
“Shut up,” Enjolras responds. Grantaire laughs, and kisses Enjolras on the cheek, causing his face to heat up. Grantaire smiles when he sees this.  
“Wanna come to my place?” The words are out of Enjolras’ mouth before he can stop it. Grantaire looks surprised. “Not like that, don’t worry, but Ferre and Courf are out so we can watch Netflix or have coffee or something.” Grantaire takes Enjolras’ hand.  
“I would love to.”  
They walk back to the apartment hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please do not hesitate to leave comments! This is my first fic, so any positive comments or suggestions are welcome. Feel free to leave suggestions for future works!


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